When All We Have Crumbles
by Cheeky Slytherin Lass
Summary: In which Marlene is too good, war is a terrible thing, and Regulus is not enough.:: for Anna


_For Anna_

_Note: I played around with the timeline for the purpose of this fic. I am well aware that the dates are incorrect, but my muse decided we were doing this._

* * *

i.

Regulus wrings his hands together as he paces the length of the empty classroom. This isn't like him. He is a Black; he's meant to be calm and collected, and yet he feels like a nervous, fumbling fool.

Marlene leans against the desk, dark brows raised as she watches him. Her perfectly glossed lips quirk into an amused smile. "We've been together for two years," she says with a soft chuckle. "Don't tell me I still make you all flustered."

He swallows dryly. Truth be told, she _does _still make his heart skip a beat. He had assumed the nervousness would fade eventually, but it is still as fresh as it had been when they had started dating.

But, tonight, it isn't about that. Tonight, his mind is too clouded to even notice the way just being around her makes his body react.

He takes a deep breath, breathing in the familiar scent of her vanilla and rose perfume. He's always loved that smell, but it makes his heart hurt now.

"Don't tell me you're breaking up with me," she says, folding her arms over her chest and narrowing her eyes in a way that clearly says breaking up isn't an option.

"What? No!" Regulus shakes his head, his dark hair whipping against his cheeks. "Of course not. I'm not an idiot."

She snorts. "Not true." She playfully pokes her finger against his chest. "You're my idiot."

He almost smiles at that. Almost.

With a heavy sigh, he takes her hand, lifting it to his lips and pressing a kiss to her knuckles. "I worry about you."

She laughs. "You don't have to worry about me."

He wishes it was true, but it isn't. War is happening, and he would have to worry about her regardless. But it isn't that simple.

"I heard that you were planning to join the resistance against the Dark Lord," he says.

"Planning? Not at all. I _am _joining," she says. "My mind is made up, and nothing will change it. We are the heroes of our time. How could I walk away from the chance to make a difference?"

Regulus sighs again and pinches the bridge of his nose. He should have known. Marlene has always been too bloody stubborn for her own good. "You can't…"

"I can, and I will." She pulls away, and his hand drops to his side. "And what about you? I have friends, you know. I know you're planning to follow in your cousin's footsteps."

Regulus flinches. He doesn't know who could have told her. Maybe Sirius. At this point, he wouldn't put it past his brother. Maybe they don't hate each other anymore, but there's an undeniable apathy that they share; sometimes it borders dangerously on passive aggressive hostility.

Still, the anger in her eyes makes his heart feel like it's being ripped apart. All he can do is stare at her, mouth opening and closing wordlessly. He wishes he could deny it, but the pressure is too great. Sirius' betrayal has left its mark on their family. The elite circles whisper about how the Blacks have become too soft, too tolerant. It doesn't help that Andromeda's marriage to the Mudblood had been so shamelessly public. How could he not do everything in his power to try to salvage his family's tarnished reputation? If that means he has to take the Dark Mark, he will.

If only it didn't mean complicating things with Marlene. He isn't brave like Sirius; he can't follow his heart and defy his parents. He can't be like Andromeda and marry whomever he pleases. As much as it breaks his heart, he has to choose, and he already knows he's going to make the wrong choice.

Marlene huffs and takes a step back. "I thought you were different," she says. "When Dorcas found out about us, she warned me that Slytherins were dangerous. I guess she was right."

Before he can even think of something to say, she turns on her heel and stalks off. Regulus stares after her, mouth hanging open. No words come out.

She is gone, and he can feel the finality in the empty space she has left behind.

…

"Don't worry about her," Evan tells him. "She'll come around." He shrugs, contemplating the his rook for a moment. "If she doesn't, is it really a loss? You ought to marry a nice pure-blood girl."

"I'm not after marriage, Rosier," Regulus snaps, scowling as his friend's rook takes his knight. "I'm…"

He doesn't know how to explain it. Evan only knows about his relationship with Marlene after walking in on them snogging in a broom closet. The only reason he's kept quiet is because Regulus is skilled at hexes, and no one wants to piss him off. Does he even owe Evan an explanation?

Regulus stares at the chessboard. He could easily win the game in fewer than ten moves. Instead, he knocks his own king over and climbs to his feet. "If you'll excuse me," he says, "I have things to do."

"Reg! Come on, mate. Don't be like that."

He doesn't stop, doesn't turn around to acknowledge Evan at all. Regulus doesn't know where he's going; all he knows is that the common room suddenly feels suffocating, and he has to escape.

…

Marlene doesn't even look at him when their paths cross in the corridors. She turns her head and laughs with her friends, passing by Regulus like he's completely invisible.

It shouldn't hurt. This is what happens when people break up. They drift apart and become strangers again. He should accept it and move on, learn to heal.

Try as he might, he can't.

…

He takes the Dark Mark the summer before his seventh year. As he presents his arm, he can feel so many eyes on him. They are watching him, waiting to see if he will really go through with it and restore the honor his brother has destroyed.

He tells himself that he wants to do this, that it's the right thing to do. He can't seem to convince himself.

Still, there is no choice. Running will mean his death, and he is not ready to give up his life. The Dark Mark burns his skin and makes him scream, but he endures it because he must.

When it's all over, Bellatrix appears at his side, twisted smile so broad he's afraid it might split her face in half. She rests a hand on his shoulder. "I was afraid you didn't have it in you," she admits.

Regulus nods mutely. He stares at the skull and serpent, his stomach sinking. He's done it; he's really done it.

"I'm so proud of you," she says, giving his shoulder a squeeze.

He should find comfort in the touch, but he doesn't.

ii.

He tries to write to Marlene. His owl returns each time with an unopened letter still attached to her leg.

Maybe he deserves this. He should have done more to keep her.

But what could he do? This is his destiny. He's meant to make his family proud and follow the Dark Lord. Why can't Marlene understand that? It doesn't make him evil or anything.

He removes the letter from his owl's leg and sighs. It goes onto the small pile of returned letters.

…

"Stay alert," Rodolphus says, like he's a leader. Everyone knows it's just an act and that Bellatrix is the one in charge. "If we manage this, the Dark Lord will reward us."

Regulus nods but doesn't say anything. He doesn't know why they're here or what they're doing. All he knows is he has his orders; he will follow them without question. The details mean very little to him. The Dark Lord has asked him to do this, and he will.

"Keep your eyes open," Bellatrix cautions. "Split up, and be careful."

This is the part of the mission he enjoys. Regulus has always been a sociable boy, but he doesn't want the others around him, breathing down his neck and watching his every move. He is grateful to be alone.

He's halfway down the corridor when he hears the commotion behind him. Regulus has seen his fair share of duels, and he recognizes the sound of spells being cast. Swearing under his breath, Regulus quickens his pace. It doesn't matter if the others are caught. He has a job to do, he will not fail his master.

He keeps his wand in his hand. His grip is so tight that the color drains from his hand, and his knuckles go white. He will not be taken down; he is stronger than that.

"_Expelliarmus!_"

Of course someone would be waiting for him. He had hoped to escape the ambush, but luck doesn't seem to be on his side. He narrowly shuffles to the side before the spell can hit and snatch away his wand.

"_Avada Ke–"_

But he stops when he recognizes those ice-blue eyes and chestnut hair. It has been quite a while since he's seen her, but Marlene still manages to take his breath away. He freezes, wand still raised, and his heart breaks.

She shouldn't be there. In that moment, he doesn't care about his master or the mission. All he can think of is that Marlene needs to be somewhere safe.

"You look well," he tells her, throat threatening to constrict.

The tension fades from her face, and she almost smiles. For a moment, he sees the girl he fell in love with. "You shouldn't be here, Reg," she says, growing serious once again.

He laughs. "I could say the same thing about you."

Silence. He wants to close the distance between them and hold her in his arms again, but it isn't the time or place. Their past doesn't matter. They're meant to be enemies now.

"It isn't too late." She lowers her wand, but she is still alert, still on guard for any little threat that may come her way. "Dumbledore would let you join us. We can protect you."

Regulus swallows. It takes all his control not to laugh in her face. Protect him? He doesn't need protection. It doesn't matter that he has his doubts about the Dark Lord, or that he is afraid. This is the path he's meant to be on; why would he need to be protected from his destiny.

"Please, Reg."

"Regulus!" Bellatrix shouts from the distance. "Fall back!"

For several seconds, he just stands there, staring longingly at the woman he loves. Could he have a second chance? Does Dumbledore hold some key to redemption?

Even if there's hope for him, he can't take the leap. Deflating slightly, he offers her a shaky smile. "It was good to see you, Mar."

As he turns to walk away, he sees her smile fade. He knows he will never be enough for her.

…

He tries again. Marlene still doesn't respond to his letters, and he wonders if maybe he'd dreamt the whole exchange. He's a fool for thinking Marlene would actually still have feelings for him, that she will ever see him as anything more than the idiot that broke her heart.

One day, his owl returns, but the letter is gone. There still isn't a reply, but he calls this progress.

iii.

"Who is she?" Rabastan asks, sitting across from Regulus.

Regulus stares pointedly at the amber liquid in his glass, lips pressed tight. Evan is dead, and his secret has died with him. No one knows the truth of his school days and that wonderful, forbidden love.

"I don't know what you're talking about." Regulus sips the liquor, wincing at the way it burns his throat.

"I know that look," Rabastan snorts. "You're pining."

"Am not."

He is, of course. By now, Regulus forgets what it's like to not think about Marlene and long for her. It's been months since his last encounter, but she still consumes his every thought. He can't go to sleep at night without dreaming of her.

Regulus exhales heavily and slumps forward, finishing off his drink in one quick gulp. "Doesn't matter," he says. "It isn't meant to be."

Once, he had believed their love could be enough. True love ought to overcome anything. He had been foolish to believe.

Now, he sees the truth. Love is powerful, but it isn't enough. It couldn't keep them together.

"In that case, I think it's time to forget about her," Rabastan says, summoning the bottle of alcohol and refilling Regulus' glass before helping himself to a glass. "Letting anyone in your head like that is messy."

His cheeks burn. He looks away, scowling. "She isn't in my head."

"Please." Rabastan snorts, swirling his drink around in the glass. "I'm not the only one who's noticed. Let go. Move on. You'll feel better if you do."

…

He tries. Really, he does try. His judgment is clouded, and he feels himself slipping more and more.

The fact that he's becoming disillusioned doesn't help. Kreacher comes back with a horrible report, and Regulus can see what a monster his master truly is.

Marlene had been right. Regulus should have switched sides. He wonders if there's still a chance, or if he's ruined it. Maybe it doesn't matter. Just because the Dark Lord is a master doesn't mean he can walk away.

Regulus is no hero; he's just a pawn. He will sit there and do what needs to be done because it's all he knows to do.

iv.

He's slipping. Regulus has always been afraid that he would break one day, and he thinks that day might be dangerously close.

"Can Kreacher bring Master Regulus anything?"

Regulus looks up from his letter to Marlene. "No," he says, smile shaky and too forced. "I'm fine, Kreacher."

The house-elf bows low, his long nose grazing over the ground. He's gone with a _pop._

Regulus stares at his parchment. It's another letter that will go unanswered, but this one is different. All the others were apologies, asking her for forgiveness and talking about what they could have together.

This one is a cry for help. He's in over his head, and something has to change soon. He's made a mistake, and he doesn't know how to fix it.

His eyes flicker to his arm. The skull and serpent seem to mock him and remind him of his own stupidity. With a groan, Regulus squeezes his eyes shut before opening them again. Sometimes he wishes this could all be a terrible dream, a horrible nightmare, and there's a chance he could wake up with Marlene by his side.

But he knows it isn't. This is real. Like it or not, he has to accept it and find a way to figure things out.

He attaches the letter to his owl's leg. Marlene will answer this one; he just knows it.

…

She doesn't respond. He tries to pretend it doesn't hurt, but it kills him.

And yet he waits.

…

He isn't prepared for the news that comes in the _Daily Prophet. _Kreacher brings him his tea and the newspaper, and Regulus drops the cup to the floor when he sees the front page.

_McKinnon Family Wiped Out, Death Eaters Suspected _

He suddenly feels sick. His stomach twists into knots, and he's afraid he might vomit. Marlene can't be dead; it has to be some other McKinnon family.

As his eyes scan through the article, any tiny morsel of hope is stripped away. _Marlene McKinnon, age nineteen, was among those found in the family's summer home._

She's gone.

…

Regulus waits until the graveyard is empty. The last thing he wants is to be recognized, to be blamed for his beloved Marlene's death. Then again, he can't stop blaming himself; maybe it's only right that others do the same.

He kneels before her headstone, resting his hand against the freshly turned earth. Kreacher is with him, though he keeps a polite distance and remains quiet.

"It isn't fair, Mar," he says quietly. "You didn't deserve this."

She had known the risks. Even with death constantly breathing down her neck, she had willingly fought. Still, it doesn't make things any easier. She should be here.

"You really were the hero of our time." He closes his eyes and takes a deep breath. "Maybe I can make you proud."

With that, he climbs to his feet and gestures his faithful house-elf forward. Kreacher bows as he faces Regulus.

"About that cave my master took you to…" Regulus swallows dryly, heart hammering painfully within his chest. "I want you to show me."


End file.
